My ONE LOVE life

It’s a very exciting time in our lives.  We are moving.  We just bought our first home.  It’s not a big move, but it pushes us outside of city limits and into a new school district.  Arrrg!

As you can see I am hinting at the fact that I am not happy about changing my daughter’s school.  It was an arduous process choosing the one we are at, an alternative, parent co-op Charter School.  I spent years worrying, wondering and exploring options.  At one point I had hooked up with a group of moms ready to start their own school.  But parted ways in the middle of the process when I learned that our priorities were not aligned -they, pushing diversity lower on the list than I.  In the end I found a school filled with mostly like-minded families and mostly multiracial.

While there have been incidents that have caused sudden pain and premature growth around issues I was hoping to delay on, such as slavery, we are happy there.

And now, onto a new school, a much smaller charter school, and nearly all white.  How do we decide our priorities?  Do we continue renting when we can own, just so our children can attend a more multiracial school?  I think there’s some validity to that.  But I also noticed that academics at our current school are not as strong as I would like.  The current school lacks structure while boasting organic garden, performing arts, and creative student-lead learning.

In our current school we have managed to carve out a comfort zone with our identity, a way of being that doesn’t elicit endless racial questions.  Though they still happen on a regular basis.

Yesterday on our way home from school the boy we car pool with asked my daughter why her eyes are black.  He wanted to know why there was no differentiation between her eye color and her pupil.  She just told him that’s the way her eyes are, and was quick to joyfully point out that her sisters are the same.  He kept saying, “weird.”  I was getting annoyed, but stayed quiet.

He was saying “weird” because he didn’t know what else to say, not because he actually thought it was weird.  Do you know what I mean?  But it put me at a loss.  How could I capture that moment and make it a learning opportunity for an immature 6 year old boy?  And do I make every moment like this a learning opportunity?  There are so many.  How exhausting.

I wonder how many of these stupid sort of questions does she gets everyday?  She didn’t seem annoyed so I wasn’t going to pass my annoyance on to her.  Certainly it wouldn’t help her, at age 6, to get annoyed with every child who asks her ignorant questions.

So I ask myself, will I ever be happy with the school I send my children?  Is it better to enrich her mind with academics, while subjecting her to the ignorant inquisitiveness of her peers?  I am not ready to go through all of those questions and comments just yet.  I am certainly not ready for those bigger moments that happen on the playground, and hope that the teacher handles them appropriately.

My thoughts for this new school is to be up front with the teachers in the beginning of the school year.  Utilize the moment to educate our new community.  Have a conversation like this, “hey, this is how we handle racism or racial identity in our family…”; much like the conversation, “hey, these are the foods my child is allergic to.”  What are your thoughts on this?

In the meantime I am grateful that we will continue with her current school through the school year and then migrate in the Fall.  Perhaps by then I will be prepared to face yet another round of educating an ignorant group of children about my inter-racial, inter-cultural family.

Just in case you are wondering just how much I love this song….

I could not have said it better.

Contrary to what many believe being in an interracial relationship does not, by itself, magically make you anti racist or race conscious. It does not make you colorblind (nor is that desirable). In reality, when you are in an interracial relationship it is even more important to constantly examine yourself, your actions, and your beliefs. In an interracial relationship it can be even harder to be race conscious, because you have to be able to separate your interpersonal relationship from society’s race realities.  for more visit Anti-Racist Parent.com

In the beginning of my relationship with my husband I would say this sentiment prevailed.  In fact I thought a lot about race, his race and race relations, in the beginning.  Some days I would obsess over it.  I became keenly aware that I was on public display.  I projected the idea that I was somehow under a microscope, that everyone was watching us, and when our kids arrived, especially them.  I spent time playing out their possible thoughts in my mind.

Are they together?  He’s really dark?  Is he from Africa?  Do those kids belong to her?  Is this just a lust thing?  Why is he with her?  People starred, and looked away.  When I caught their gaze I filled in the gaps.  I let my mind wander, was I setting the right example?  Was I behaving like the perfect anti-racist?  I put a lot of pressure on myself, censuring my words, and even my thoughts.

There was a time, when I first moved back to the US after living overseas for many years, that I did not feel comfortable in rooms or crowds of white people.  Spilling over from my time living in the Caribbean I gravitated toward brown faces.  I cannot explain why it was more comfortable to me, it just was.

Then I went through a time when I felt weird without my inter-racial identity.  When I’d go to the store and the same black cashier who was so friendly to my children and me last week didn’t even notice me the next.  Who was I if I didn’t have this badge on my arm that said, “no really, I am not a racist, see!”

Then there was this time, maybe I am still in it a bit, when I felt conflicted about hanging out with other interracial couples.  Sometimes I would wonder, am I perpetuating the belief that ‘we all stick together’?  My daughter’s third birthday party was Sunday, with the exception of one Latino family, we were all interracial families.  Well, except for my one single friend (in case she’s reading this), who doesn’t have children, she’s black.  I looked around at the beautiful group and appreciated the rarity of such a gathering, my family’s intimate group, a mix of colors, cultures and races: African, Caribbean, Japanese, Jewish, Mexican, and English.

Somewhere along the line my preoccupation with getting it right, and being the perfect anti-racist ceased to prevail in my mind.  A couple of years ago I stopped wondering and then eventually I stopped caring so much.   Now much of what bothered me, has become barely noticeable.  Thank God for maturity, wisdom and expereience!  I was soon able to blur the line between my racial thoughts and my relationship thoughts.  Somewhere I along the way I got comfortable enough with myself to stop caring so much.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/20/sasha-and-malia-obama-ina_n_159499.html

“Let’s play slaves,” my oldest said to my youngest.  I could hear them in the other room.

“I’ll be the slave and you be my owner.” she said to her.

I interjected from the other room (trying to be casual).  “What are slaves?”  I asked.

“A long time ago black people were taken and owned by white people.  The white people made them work for them.”

“Where did you hear that?” I asked.

“At school,  we learned about it today at school.” She said.

“And how do you feel about that?” I asked.  She looked at me with a blank, yet uncomfortable stare.  I reiterated, “How do you feel about white people owning black people, and I am white?”

“It’s O.K. Mom.  It happened a long time ago.  You’re white, but Daddy’s black, and you love him.  There are three black people living in our house, and you’re just one white person.  It happened a long time ago Mom, slavery is over now.”  Then she proceeded to tell me a very 1st grade version of a lady who was tired and didn’t want to sit in the back of the bus… and there was this man (MLK) who helped stand up for her rights.

And that was that.  My baby is no longer a “virgin”.  She now knows what sets her apart.  That was yesterday and then tonight I heard her muttering something about slavery to herself as we sat down to dinner.  She’s processing it all, in her six year old mind.  I feel helpless, and I know too that this is her path.  I have no control over her process, her lessons, her life.

And I know that “every little thing is gonna to be alright”*.

*Bob Marley -Three Little Birds.

I have been celebrating all day with my girls.  We’ve been dancing, singing, talking, enjoying.  We had the priviledge of enjoying the beach on this sunny California day.

Will.i.am’s “It’s a new Day” was pounding out of the speakers tonight when I asked my oldest daughter (6 y/o), “Do you understand why it’s a big deal that Barrack Obama is our new president?”

She said, “No”.

I said, “It’s because he is the first (and I raised my eyebrows) black President.”

She said, “So.”

I can’t say I was too surprised by her reaction, but I did feel a bit of guilt.  Should she know better?  I am conflicted.

On one hand her saying “so” meant to me that she was thinking, “of course mom, why wouldn’t he be president?”  Her knowing of the world is still “anything’s possible”. So perhaps her lack of excitement or even wonder about it, was really her way of saying, “duh mom, anyone who’s as popular as Barack Obama should be President.”

On the other hand, it’s sad that she doesn’t understand the sheer weight of this moment in time.  The moment that actually has opened the door to “anything really is possible”.

Should I feel guilty, exceptionally white, or conflicted because my daughter does not know or understand the plight of black people in her country.  My husband of course is little help.  Though he gets it, he’s not American.  In his country all of the President’s are black!  All of his teachers are black.  All of his friends are black. 97% of the population is black! Of course logically, and intellectually he gets it.  But it’s not the same.  And should it be?  Is it necessary that my daughter knows the history of African American’s to appreciate the moment?

rac·ism

n. 1. The belief that race accounts for differences in human character or ability and that a particular race is superior to others.

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The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2003. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

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It seems that my post “Racism or ignorance?” is stirring up more in me.  I can’t leave well enough alone.  Then again I guess that’s why I started keeping this blog.

So I find myself reflecting on my own growth as a human, participating in American Society.  As a white (partly Jewish) woman I was raised in a primarily white/Latino Southern California community.  It was not until I was in college that I was exposed to a broader African American culture, Asian culture and even Jewish culture.

So I remained open and enjoyed exploring new boundaries, new cultures, and new colors.  At 18 I started traveling overseas and lived among foreign races and cultures for almost a decade.  I wonder if along the way that I said, or even thought ignorant things about people of other races. Does that make me a racist?  Now that I am married to a black man, does that make me a reformed racist?  A nice racist?  I don’t think so, but maybe you feel differently.

I do know however what it feels like to be on the receiving end of racist and ignorant comments.  It doesn’t feel good.  Is that the essence of racism? Is that what makes someone a racist?  When someone says or does something that acknowledges race, or a racial stereotype, and it’s result makes someone feel discriminated against? Is it valid to say that racism exists when the minority says so.  I think so.  Or even when just one person says so.  Because that’s what truth is all about. My version of reality is not always your version of reality.

Take the example in my post “Ignorance or Racism?”.  My husband didn’t perceive the man’s comment as racist until he came home and blew my top about it.  So now it’s racist, or it always was?

So when is someone who has made a racist comment not considered a racist? Is it possible for a racist person to loose their racist tendencies?  Does that make someone a reformed racist?  How and when do we know that a transformation has occured? Do we have a responsibility to say something when racist comments happen?  Do we have a responsibility to forgive racists or racist comments?  How will we know when things have changed?  Can a racist really change?

Happy New Year!